I wouldn't make a convict wait in line for brunch. It is senseless, cruel, and totally counterintuitive. Do I brunch because I'm hungover? Or am I hungover because I brunch? While you're chewing on that, chew on this: a hangover is definitely involved either way, and after a long night of boozing, the last thing I want to do is mill around on a sidewalk full of strangers and not-eat.
"If the brunch draws a big crowd, it must be popular," you retort. Well, fine. But you know what else is popular? Walmart. Basketball Wives. Wearing your cellphone on a belt holster. Nickelback, statistically speaking. Popular does not a good brunch make.
Wake up, you mouth-breathing hordes. No matter how delicious the brioche French toast is, nor how many likes you tally of it on Instagram (#uhmaze), it'll never outstrip the misery you suffered through just for the privilege of eating it. We may not agree on much, Walker, but you've gotta capitulate here: brunch-waiting sucks.